Joining the Shadows
by ohthatonegirl
Summary: An unremarkable girl is saved by some very remarkable turtles one fateful night, changing her life and the lives of all those involved. Set right before the events of the 2016 'Out of the Shadows'. OC/Leo
1. Rain and Rescues

Chapter update cause i hate errors and run-on sentences.

The I-Don't-Own anything spiel - i just like to play around with some ideas.

College was difficult, but I'd rather walk across campus in the rain with a 30-pound backpack and be late for class then the alternative. The alternative being running across campus in the rain with a 30-pound backpack and never making it to class, because I was running for my life.

Yup. Not to sound dramatic or anything, but I've seen _Taken_, and this felt like a scene from right out of the movie, except I didn't have a bad-ass dad to come and save me from the goons who were currently chasing me.

Some backstory to this action-packed opener; I had just finished my last class of the day and was headed to my dissertation to study for a math test, which was located across campus. Stepping into the grey light of the storm-cloud filled afternoon, I had hurried to make it to the math building before the clouds decided to stop withholding their promise of rain. Just when the first drops started to appear on the pavement, a shadow jumped out from the corner of my eye.

Turning my head, I didn't slow my pace as I scanned the area. There were some allies in-between the NYU buildings, but all I could see in the area were a few trash cans, half-hidden in shadows of the quickly-darkening sky. Nothing felt off, and there were enough people around that it hadn't even thought to be worried about it.

'_Probably just a cat,'_ I had thought to myself, and put my head down to shield my eyes from the slowly falling rain.

Shoes starting to soak through to my socks, I had debated if I could risk ditching class and instead head home, knowing that most of the students in my class would be doing just that. As soon as I had made the decision to fast-walk the shortest route to my dorm, another shadow, this one more solid and larger looking, streaked across the corner of my vision again.

Heart starting to pick up a little speed, I had looked again into the ally I was passing, determined to see what my gut was telling me was there. I reduced my pace enough, not quite a stop, but slow enough to give my eyes and ears a little more time to process the area.

Again, nothing.

With renewed determination to make it out of the quickly-worsening storm, my heart continued to beat harder than normal, especially when I had noticed that the few other people who had been within shouting distance were now out of sight, taking shelter in other buildings due to the storm.

Keeping my eyes downcast to protect them, my ears were now pealed to listen for any suspicious sounds coming from behind me, my eyes darting back and forth to try and keep watch within my limited range. Luckily, I listened to my gut instead of the mantra of '_I'm fine_'s' that had been running through my head.

The person - or as it turned out to be _persons- _had gathered behind me in almost complete silence, but one had made a bad move or footfall, resulting in my already-paranoid brain to latch onto the noise that would have been dismissed in any other situation.

I had spun around, one fist up and the other holding onto the can of pepper spray that was attached to my car-keys, with a glare on my face and panic in my veins. It took me a second to register what I was looking at, but luckily my fight or flight instincts kicked in, or I would have wasted precious time puzzling over the group of strangely dressed men assembled in front of me.

As I turned to run, I headed for the nearest 'panic button' emergency call box. Campus was littered with them for this exact purpose.

'_Well, maybe not this _exact _purpose,'_ some part of my brain mused as I sprinted with my eyes practically closed to keep them shielded from the rain, and trying not to slip on the slick concrete, '_I don't think the school has ever seen something like this before.' _

My attackers- there looked to be about six of them- were dressed head-to-toe in black, their faces (what little I could see of them) were painted a weird metallic grey, and all of them carried a wide variety of weapons. I didn't have a chance to get a good look at said weapons, but my brain had screamed danger, and I was spinning on my heel before I could test just how inadequate my ten-year-old yellow belt in karate was when up against steel and iron.

With my heart pumping the sense-enhancing adrenaline, my ears were able to pick up a few shocked exhales from the group behind me, and then the subtle noises of cloth-clad feet running through water puddles in pursuit.

Luckily, I think I had taken the group by surprise with my spin-and-sprint, gaining those desperately needed extra seconds to reach the call box. The blue light beckoned me, giving me something for my instincts to latch onto. I could feel more than hear my pursuers gaining ground, but with a surprising bust of speed, I reached out my had to hit the large button, knowing that I couldn't stop or slow down.

'_Whooshing'_ noises registered in my mind, and then a sharp sting, but they were too late. Whatever they had thrown at me had cut the top of my reaching hand, but the adrenaline in my system helped me to ignore the slight injury and instead, slam my now-bleeding hand onto the big blue 'emergency' button as I raced passed it.

My instincts told me to keep running- I had alerted the police that there was an issue, and I was confident that there were video cameras attached to the box to help them in finding me sooner rather than later, but that didn't mean I was out of immediate danger- so I ran, trying to find the quickest way to a busy street. Luckily, I was in New York, meaning there were busy streets full of people around every corner. But of course, unlucky me took a corner too soon.

Instead of heading down a side-street into a main street, I had taken an alleyway. It was so cliche, I was ashamed to _be_ a New Yorker. Everyone could tell the difference in daylight and normal circumstances, but in the dark and in panic, even the most seasoned concrete-jungle survivor could make mistakes, or at least that's what I told myself when the end of the ally came into focus and my momentum carried me into the wall blocking my escape.

Bouncing off the shoulder that had come up to protect my body, I slap my hands on the brick with a shout of frustration and terror, then turn to face my attackers.

The way they move can only be described as animalistic. They keep to the shadows, advancing slowly, as if sensing my fear and wanting to savor the growing panic that encases the air around me.

But I wasn't done yet. I didn't know why this was happening or why I was being chased, but there was no way I was going to go down without a fight. Taking a step away from the unyielding wall, I suck in a breath and scream louder then I have since kindergarten-

"SOMEBODY HELP M-" my plea is cut short as something '_whooshes'_ through the rain, and this time something like a baseball hits me on my left side just under my rib-cage.

I stumble back until I collide with the wall behind me, my hand coming up to cover my injury and meeting with something slick with rainwater, foreign and blunt.

My brain doesn't register what it is, but my attention is drawn away from it long enough to see that the group of weirdly-dressed men are close enough now that I can see the whites of their eyes. Some look blank, while others look like the kind you see portrayed by villains in movies that are about to get away with murder, and for all I knew- they were.

I'm breathing sharply through my nose now, head leaning as far away from the closest assailant as I can get, and meeting the hard brick with the back of my head. He stalks closer and closer, until finally- I can smell the foulness of his breath inches away from my face. He looks to be 6' tall, and built like a quarterback. I can't even pretend to put on a brave face as his height towers over me. His eyes are smirking as he brings his hand up and places it onto the brick wall next to my head. The others in the group stay a few yards back, watching- but not advancing. He brings more of his weight onto the hand on the wall, leans even further into my personal space, and then inhales deeply.

I shudder when the man closes his eyes in delight as if actually smelling my terror. He lingers for a moment, and just when I see his eyes start to open, my ears pick up another 'whoosh', and then a 'thud' as the strangest-looking knife I have ever seen sinks it's way into the man's hand by my head.

I flinch at the close proximity of the knife, vaguely glad that someone either has terrible, or very impressive aim.

Even with a knife in his hand, it takes a few seconds for the man in front of me to register this new development, and for me to realize that this wasn't something thrown by one of the men behind the creep now stuck to the wall. The man's eyes drift from my face to his hand, before letting out a terrifying bellow of anger, signaling all hell to break loose.

I try and sink down and away from the man in front of me, but he registers the movement and uses his unstuck hand to back-slap me across my temple. I see stars and my vision around the edges turns hazy as I stagger from the powerful blow, but by some miracle, I stay standing. I trip over to the side of the ally, placing a hand on the wall to keep me steady and provide something solid as the world tries to turn itself back from tipping on its side.

Vaguely, I hear the unmistakable sounds of a struggle and look up in time to see some of the men clothed in black sailing through the air to land with a tremendous 'BANG' into one of the open dumpsters across from me. I have enough sense to be impressed, but not enough to dwell on the scene as I see huge black shadows moving in and out of the rain, leaving my pursuers laying on the floor in their wake.

I'm so entranced by these gracefully powerful beings that I don't see Creeper until it's almost too late. The knife that had been keeping him pinned to the wall now grasped in his uninjured hand, I see his arm raise and then plunge down toward me out of the corner of my eye. I gasp and turn my back to him, trying to protect my front from his attack, but knowing it's frutial. I wait for the blow, and flinch when I hear a tortured scream instead.

Slowly turning my head to look over my shoulder, through the rain and the shadows I see my would-be attacker clutching a stump of bleeding flesh where his arm used to be.

I turn fully and watch in shock as the man falls to his knees, moaning in agony, then seeing a large, definitely _non-human_ hand, reach out with the end of something, and swiftly clubs my attacker in the back of the head. The attacker's body goes limp and falls unconscious next to his recently-decapitated arm with a muffled 'thump'.

All is quiet except for the sound of my breathing and the rain against the pavement. I can see the outline of my saviors in front of me, but my vision is still fading in-and-out that I can't quite see who they are. I can tell they are enormous and seem to be carrying some heavy-duty equipment, but I can't make out details. The silence is broken by one of the shadows breaking away from the others and inching its way closer.

The shadow speaks.

"Nasty Leo. I don't think I've ever seen you cut someone's arm off before," says the deep gruff voice of the shadow.

Again, in the partial light of the moon, I see a three-fingered green hand emerge to pick up the knife from my former-attackers detached arm. He wipes the grime off on the arm's sleeve and then straightens back into the shadows.

There's a silence as I feel cautious eyes watching me. I decide to break it, to try and express my gratitude to my saviors before they disappear- I have a suspicion that they don't like to be seen- but before I can, the pain in my side registers so unexpectedly that I let out a gasp and slide against the wall I'm leaning against util my butt hits the ground. My left hand comes up to cover the area that had been hit earlier, and what I first mistake as rainwater registers as something warmer. I have an idea of what it might be, but my lungs are having a harder time taking in oxygen than they usually do, and I can't seem to form coherent thoughts. That, or I'm going into shock.

I feel fingers on my cheek, and a voice telling me to open my eyes. When did I close them? I can't remember. But I listen to the voice and force my eyes to reopen, focusing on the figure before me.

It's strange how within the past few minutes I've had two different men invading my personal space, and yet one of them elicited fear, and the other brings peace. Two very different emotions for two _very_ different men. This one is large, larger than the other, and yet seems like he can take off in any direction without the slightest hindrance. He's also green and bald, but for some reason that doesn't seem to cause me much fear. His electric blue eyes capture mine, and I forget all about the green and the bald and the 3 fingers still touching my cheek. The blue strip of cloth surrounding them only enhance how beautiful they are as they hold my gaze, and all I feel is peace and security in that moment. Either that or I've hit my head too many times tonight for it to be severely impairing my judgment.

It's gone almost as soon as it started, another figure pushing the blue-eyed one out of the way. He's also as large and green, but is wearing all sorts of tech and seems to have the energy of a hummingbird, constantly fidgeting and checking, then rechecking and readjusting. He seems worried though, his eyes magnified by the glasses perched on his nose making it easier to read the worry in them.

I'm aware of him scanning me with something that looks like a futuristic watch, then pushing aside the hand covering my side and letting out a hiss of breath, saying something to the other shapes around him. I hear the urgency in his tone, and also vaguely the sound of vehicles approaching. The vehicles don't have sirens though, so I'm confused as to why they are here.

The other figures hear them too and seem to freeze in place for a moment as they decide if the new arrivals are friend or foe. I think they settle on foe.

I let out a gasp as the one with glasses injects my side with something, and then presses some sort of cloth around the object still embedded in my side. It's almost instantly soaked through by rain and warm liquid.

The Blue-Eyed one is back, and lifting me up from off the ground, one arm under my knees and the other cradling my back. I've never been carried like this before, but he makes it seem as though it is almost effortless. My head falls against something hard and unyielding, but it's warm to the touch and smooth against my cheek.

There's a sensation of shifting and tense muscles, then the feeling of falling. I gasp and try and make sense of the immediate relief from the rain and almost pitch-blackness that now surrounds me. I can't tell if my eyes are closed or not, but it's getting harder to care about such silly details. I feel myself drifting, but I want to convey my gratitude. I know they won't hurt me, and even though this feels like a drug-induced dream, I like the security I feel in the arms of my rescuers, I want to tell him that.

My free hand is my sticky one, but I move it to touch the man's chest-protection, hoping he can feel the pressure there. His pace (one that is very fast now that I think about it) never wavers, but I feel his attention on my hand against his chest. I look up to where I hope his eyes are and catch a flash of blue through the darkness.

"Thank you," I manage to whisper, "thank you... thank you, thank-" I can only repeat the phrase. Nothing else comes out and I'm too exhausted to try. Blue-Eyes doesn't say anything, but his pace impossibly seems to quicken and his hand briefly squeezes the shoulder he's supporting.

Soon it's too much for me to resist the pull to drift into oblivion, and though I hear the vibrations of Blue-Eyes talking through his chest-protection, I can't make out what it is he's saying, and soon the vibrations help me fall into the waiting darkness that much faster. I do not worry though. There is too much goodness in the eyes that are watching over me to worry.


	2. Into the Sewers

I awaken into consciousness with a grunt and a wince as I'm laid onto some sort of table.

My eyes crack open, and are immediately assaulted with harsh flashes of light and quick-moving color. I close them again, but the noise registers to me know as well. Before, there was hardly the low murmur of speaking or even _sound_ \- between the group as we raced along at top speed, but now there are urgent voices calling out orders, the sound of music or a television in the background, and the distant rumble of water not far from where I lay.

"- get Splinter and tell him it's an emergency-" says a voice to my left, closer to the television noises.

"On it!" shouts a younger voice, and then the quick padding of retreating feet.

"Raph, text April and tell her what's going on. Ask for warm clothes and an extra space heater, as well as any meds she's willing to spare," This is the same voice as before, but it's not the Blue-Eyed one. My mind decides its the one with the streak of purple and glasses, only now he sounds more sure- with less energy of a hummingbird and more the confidence of someone who knows exactly what he's capable of.

"Leo," says the purple one again, "grab those scissors and cut off her shirt, I need to see what I'm doing." He says the last part almost defensively.

'_Well,'_ my brain muses, '_at least I have on a water-soaked sports bra.'_

I sense a hesitation before a presence beside me moves away, and quietly returns.

Then, I feel feather-light fingers tugging at the bottom of my shirt, peeling the wet fabric away from my skin. This brings my eyes to fluttering open once more.

I see the light bouncing off a bald head, and another flash of blue as 'Leo' looks up from where he's decided to cut, and catches my gaze.

It's getting worryingly harder to breath, and the light-headedness is not helping any, so I give a little nod, and shift my gaze over to the purple one standing in front of, what looks to be, twenty computer monitors. On some of them the news flashes by, and on others there are only voice bars that fluctuate every once in a while, then there are screens showing some sort of security footage, but on most of them the main image seems to have been replaced with in-depth diagrams of human anatomy, as well as one monitor dedicated to live vital signs.

'My _vital signs,_' I realise.

The purple one turns from the screens and makes his way over to me with a tray of stuff (I can't see what from this angle) and a bag of clear solution. He notices that my eyes are open and seems surprised- then nervous- but that doesn't stop him from quickly hanging the bag above my head, then taking my arm in his gentle grip, rotating it, and cleaning the inside of my elbow with a swab.

Right then, cold air hits my skin as the Blue-Eyed one swiftly cuts through my shirt from hem to collar. He makes more cuts from wrists to collarbone, cutting away the sleeves of my once-grey long-sleeve shirt, exposing me to the cold.

Goosebumps raise on my body and I'm unable to control my reaction of shivering violently. I instinctively try and move my hands to rub some warmth into my arms, but the purple guy has my left one and is just now inserting a needle into my elbow, and the other gently grabs my right to bring it back to my side.

I moan as my shivering contracts my abdomen muscles, causing shooting pain to race up and down my side, originating from the foreign object still sticking out of my body.

'_Knife,'_ my mind supplies, '_I have a knife in me,'_

Before I can dwell on that for too long, something warm and fluffy is draped over my chest and shoulders, then another is laid across my exposed right-side.

I blink up at the Blue-Eyed one as he adjusts and tucks the (what I assume to be) towels around me, making sure that no skin that doesn't need to be seen is covered. I blink at him in thanks, then roll my head to look over to where the purple one is talking very quickly over by the monitors.

"I don't understand!" he almost shouts in frustration, jumping from one screen to the next, "The scan shows that the knife missed the vital organs, and yet something is still wrong. She can barely breath or keep consciousness, and I can't figure out-"

"Tension…" I say in almost a whisper. The purple one continues on, not having heard anything, but Blue-Eyes takes a step closer, and looks at me with furrowed eye-ridges.

I look up at him, my hand coming up to grasp his forearm,

"Tensio-...pneumothor...thorax…" I manage, my vision tunneling and the sound around me starting to muffle.

I feel his eyes on me for a moment longer, then he looks across me to the purple one.

"Donnie, what's a tension pneumothorax?" says the deep, level voice of Blue-Eyes. His tone is almost neutral, but I can hear the sliver of anxiousness threaded through it. He hasn't moved away from my side, so my hand continues to weakly grasp his forearm, helping to anchor my clouded mind to the conversation happening over my head.

The voice of the purple one stops for a moment- out of shock or to contemplate the idea, I'm not sure- then his voice seems to burst out of him, in an excited 'finding the answer to a particularly elusive problem' sort of way.

"That makes sense!" he exclaims, "I don't know why I didn't see it before! Well, she's not very tall or extremely skinny, that might have helped, but if the knife nicked the visceral pleura allowing oxygen in, it could have collapsed her lung!" he says as he runs around his monitors, hitting keys and bringing up different images, then running out of sight behind me, opening and slamming drawers while muttering under his breath.

My eyes start to drift close again against my will, and the weak grasp that I have on the man beside me fades until it slips off completely. I feel a shift, and then large warm fingers replace my arm back to its' spot by my side, lifting aside the towel just long enough to cover the appendage.

I hear more sets of feet shuffling toward us, but my eyes have drifted closed now and all my remaining energy is used on trying to keep my mind engaged in the sounds and snippets of conversation around me.

The anxious young voice from earlier is back and catches my attention,

"Crap dude, she don't look so- HOLY CRAP DONNIE, that's the biggest needle I've ever seen! What are you gonna do, drink her blood?!" He cries out sounding worried and horrified.

I twitch a the shout and almost bring myself to re-open my eyes, but decide against it. My movement was noticed however, and soon I feel a shift as the familiar voices around me tell the new-comer to "Shut up, Mikey!", and then a muffled "I think I'm gonna be sick,".

There is a new presence now, older and smaller than the ones I've become accustomed to. He is speaking in another language to the others in the room, sounding as if asking questions. His voice is smooth, yet brokes no room for argument or dishonesty. He sounds like a father.

I'm too tired and out-of-it to flinch when a new hand is placed on my forehead. This one is smaller than the others, with five fingers instead of three, I can feel the tips of sharp nails at the end of each digit, and warm pads of flesh register in my brain before the hand is removed. The others around me are answering questions in the same foreign language, keeping me out of the loop, but by their tones I can tell they are relaying their stories from earlier this evening.

From being placed on the table to know, no more than ten minutes could have passed, and in those ten minutes my breathing has been shallow, but even. Until now.

Suddenly, it feels as though I'm forcing in air through a very small straw, barely getting any oxygen all the way to my lungs.

One of the monitors starts beeping erratically, and the movement around me becomes frantic. My eyes are open again, and my vision focuses enough to see green hands above my head, some gesturing, others holding things. One set moves aside the towel covering my chest, and then there are fingers counting my rib spaces.

"Leo, Mikey- hold her down, this isn't going to feel good," says the purple one.

My eyes are fixed on the ceiling, desperately trying to draw breath. I gasp every few seconds, my hands clenching and unclenching beside me. Someone grabs my legs and uses their forearm to secure my waist to the table, while another gently - but very firmly - holds my arms to my sides. I don't consciously fight their hold, but my fight-or-flight is back on, and this time it feels the need to fight.

I can barely move an inch though, so strong are the arms holding me, but my back arches as high as it will go, tension running through every line of my body.

"Do it Donnie!" yells the voice above me, and I feel an unpleasant stab between my ribs, the feeling of some pressure easing, and then a 'pop' as the syringe is pulled all the way through the tube, the trapped air releasing with an audible '_hissss'_.

I gasp for my first clear lungfuls of breath, my muscles relaxing slowly with each exhale. The hands that were holding me down moments ago are now slowly releasing their tight grips, the panic in the air subsiding.

"That was close," says the purple one.

"Are you just gonna leave it in there?!" asks the figure who had been holding my legs, sounding just as horrified as he had earlier.

"We still need to remove the knife from her side and then caturize the tear in her pleural, or she could suffer another pneumothorax," says the purple one, his voice adding to the chorus of shifting bodies and banging objects, "so until then, yes, it stays in." he says with a note of finality.

I hear a gulp from the young voice, and then his shuffling footsteps as he moves away from the end of the bed.

A new voice, one I had heard earlier in the ally but not since then, approaches my crowded table.

"April says she'll be on her way as soon as the storm clears," says the gruff voice.

"Good, good…" mutters the purple one. "Ok, the next part requires sedation. Leo, hand me that bag by your foot, would ya?"

More shuffling and short questions, my breathing now under control, I allow my eyes to shift from their focal point on the ceiling. Feeling my vision and mind becoming less cloudy due to full lungs of oxygen, I'm now able to fully take in my surroundings. Or, more importantly, the _people_ in my surroundings.

I've heard the rumors and seen some of the news reports, but nothing can really prepare you for the real-deal.

I've never been one to believe in man-made monsters, just monsters inside men, so even though it takes me a second to really register what I'm seeing, my heart-rate picks up only slightly and I never feel the desire to scream.

Standing around me are four, very large, heavily armed, _turtles_. Their shells, now unmistakable in the glare of fluorescent lights, gleam on their backs, and I'm able to catch glimpses of scars and painted symbols.

They are all easily 6 feet tall, the shortest is the one with an orange cloth strip around his eyes, digging though, what looks like, my backpack. He is heavily muscled and covered in protective wrapings, but his tongue sticks out of the corner of his mouth and his eyes flash with child-like curiosity as he pulls out my wallet and starts to rifle through it.

The tallest of the group is also the largest. The size of his biceps look bigger than my head, and I can almost physically feel his short temper from across the room. It's impressive that he fits in this space, let alone without knocking over everything in sight. His head is covered with red cloth, but that doesn't distract from his piercing green eyes. They watch me watching him, cautious and more than a little suspicious, then tilts his head to the side until it lets out an audible 'crack', breaks eye contact, and moves far enough away so that I'm out of his line of sight.

The purple masked one is back to having the energy and speed of a hummingbird, almost running from computer to desk, to cupboard, then back to the computer. He is also muscled, but it's leaner than the others, yet he stands apart from in intelligence if his tec-covered body is anything to go by.

Before I can turn my attention to the Blue-Eyed one, a fifth figure steps out of the shadows. He is completely different in every sense of the word, yet seems to hold a large sway over the turtles. I can see it in the way they immediately make room for him in the small space and listen intently when he utters to them under his breath. I take in a sharp inhale when I see exactly _what_ this figure is as he moves closer toward me and into the light.

He's a rat. A huge, grey, covered in fur, _talking rat_!

His ears twitch when I inhale, and slowly brings his gaze even with mine. His eyes are the opposite of what I assumed they would be- yes, they are almost all black, and even seem watery, but they are gentle and kind rather then hard and unfeeling.

We stay like that, taking in the other, for a few moments until our gaze is broken by the purple one.

"Alrighty, one human-safe anesthetic," he says, another syringe flashing in his hand.

Real worry starts to kick in. The last few minutes seem to scatter from my mind- the help I had literally _just_ received and the rescue from earlier are taking a backseat to the new potential threat of being forced to unconsciousness. I eye the hand with the needle warily and try to bring my forearms under me in an attempt to sit up. A heavy hand on my shoulder materializes and encourages me to stay down. I look up to find none-other than Blue-Eyes staring back at me.

I still my movements under his gaze, but my eyes dart between the purple one with his syringe of drugs, and his glacier-like eyes.

His expression doesn't change, but the hard lines around his eyes seem to soften slightly.

"Don't worry miss, we won-" Blue begins, but is interrupted by the young voice who had been looking through my backpack, my wallet still held in one of his large hands.

"Her name's Anna, bro!" he calls over, waving the wallet as if to prove the information correct.

Blue looks over at the younger turtle, a slight glare at seeing just how he was able to find out this tidbit, before refocusing his eyes on me,

"Anna," he says, "Don't worry. Nothing will happen while you sleep, it's just to help make you more comfortable," he says with a nod directed to someone on my other side.

I blink in response. How am I _supposed_ to respond? My rescuer - a huge humanoid turtle - is speaking to me, and I realize it's the first time one of them has. After a moment of continued eye contact, I decide to put my trust in everything I had felt and seen over the past half-hour and give him a slight nod and a watery half-smile. He doesn't smile back, but his hand that still rests on my shoulder gives me a reassuring squeeze, similar to the one he gave me earlier when we were running from danger. It's just as comforting now as it was then.

I turn my head in time to see an empty syringe being extracted from the access port at my elbow, the purple one's amber eyes scanning my face for something- I'm not sure what- before giving me an embarrassed smile, then starts to move away.

I reach out and touch his arm before he gets a full step in, causing him to freeze in place and almost drop the empty syringe in his hand. He catches the falling item with reflexes so fast, I almost don't see it happen. He turns back to face me, an eyeridge raised in question.

"I'm allergic to amoxicillin," I tell him, still a little breathless, "and I've never been 'put under' before, so I don't know how I'll react to it...and I need to...call my parents…my roomates'll be worried…"

The heavy hand of the drugs starts to over-power my brain, forcing my eyes to drop low, my muscles to relax, and my tongue to feel disconnected from my mouth. Before I fall all the way under though, the newly-hazy figure takes a step forward and places my arm back on the table beside me with a gentleness that shouldn't be surprising, and yet still is.

"Don't worry, miss," says the figure, "We've got you…"

And with that, I succumb to the darkness once again.


	3. Fevers aren't Fun

The darkness tries to keep me in it's embrace with its seductive promises of rest and oblivion, but my mind refuses to accept them.

It's not like in most books where the drugged individual (i.e. - me) doesn't remember anything and wonders where they are before suddenly recalling exactly what had happened to them the night previously.

Unlike them, I remember.

True, the memories seem to now possess a hazy edge, and they come slowly, but I remember. School, the chase, rain water, a bloody stump, blue fabric, warm fingers, turtles, the knife, the drugs...and then the darkness.

As the memories fade into the background, my senses start to take over once again. My hearing clears before the others.

"I jus' don't understand why we're still standin' around here playing doctor- _again_ might I add!" Is the first thing I register. It's the gruff voice from before, and I'd bet everything I own (not that that was a lot) on the voice belonging to the big one in red.

"Unlike the last time, she _does_ have injuries!" Says a voice coming from the same direction as Red. It sounded like this new voice (who I believed was Blue-Eyes) was about to continue with -what was sounding like- an argument, but is interrupted.

"So we drop 'er at the nearest hospital, and that's that!" says Red, louder now. "She might be a Foot spy for all we know, and we literally just _carried_ her into our lair. They could be on their way right now to blow up our home again, for cryin out loud!" His voice is practically a shout at this point.

"Technically, from the behavior of the group and the location of the attack, we can safely assume that she could fit more in the 'kidnap' or 'ambush victim' category..." This voice was definitely Glasses.

"...and again," he continues, sounding exasperated, "her injuries were pretty severe. We couldn't risk taking the time to get her to the closest hospital- you saw what happened as soon as we got her here, she almost died on the table of a collapsed lung." His voice is steadily becoming more defensive the longer he speaks, ending with a disapproving inflection in his tone.

"And," he says almost as an afterthought, "the security systems would have picked up abnormal activity within a mile radius of the lair. She also didn't have any recording devices or microchips planted on her- I scanned her after she went under."

"You checked out a girl while she was sleeping?! Dude, that's like second base bro!" Crows- undoubtedly- by the Young one. I can almost _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

There's a brief pause as something flat comes into contact with another object, followed quickly by a muffled 'ouch!', and then the argument continues, as if never interrupted.

"Well then, we take her to one now. If she's good enough to lie on a bed here, why can't she be in one at a hospital?! You know, where _humans_ go!" Red again.

"Well, you pointed it out earlier, didn't you Raph?" Says Blue, obviously trying to hold back the emotion in his voice. "She could be a Foot soldier, so we need to question her, which in turn means keeping her close and under observation. But if she's not, the least we could do is make sure she recovers- and more importantly, that she keeps our secret. _Wakaru_?"

I hear a huff, then a grumble- I can't make out any words, but it sounds like Red has run out of ammunition for his argument.

"I think you're just freaked 'cause she wasn't. She didn't even come close to fainting- even after staring at _your_ ugly face!" came the voice of the Young one again.

Another 'thud', this one louder, followed by another 'ooph', and then the unmistakable sounds of large footsteps growing quieter and quieter, until they finally disappear altogether.

At least two of the voices have stayed in the area where I am laying, and they begin to talk to each other quietly with the absence of Red. I take this time to test out my other senses.

I'm resting on my right side (the opposite of where I was stabbed, thank goodness) rather than on my back, like one usually does when waking up from surgery. I'm not really surprised though, '_I never could sleep on my back'_ I think to myself.

There's a comfortable pillow under my head, and I suspect more behind and in front of me- I can feel the cushy lumps surrounding me, helping me to stay on my side. I can feel a tightness across my abdomen, and a twinge of pain goes through the area as I shift a little off my arm that's starting to go numb beside me.

I ignore the twinge and slide my hand under the pillow below my head, letting out a sigh now that I'm comfortable.

My brain still feels foggy, but I know I don't want to slip under into sleep again. I shift my leg so that it drapes over the pillow by my knees, then arch my back to stretch my sore limbs. More twinges of pain shoot through me, from both the puncture site and from my chest, but it's more the good kind of pain rather than the bad kind.

My tongue darts out to try and wet my cracked lips, but that's pretty dry too. I swallow, take a deep breath through my nose, and then crack my eyes open.

The light doesn't seem as harsh as before, but it's still too bright for my eyes when I first open them. After blinking for a few seconds though, the light starts to feel not as sharp, and the image of my surroundings begins to clear.

Glasses and Blue-Eyes are standing close to each-other at the far side of the room, heads bent together and occasionally gesturing with their hands. They don't notice that I'm awake, but before I can take advantage of the un-observed moment to get a decent look at the room I'm laying in, my vision is filled with orange and green.

I blink as my eyes re-adjust to look at the grinning face inches away from mine. It's the young one- the same who had been digging through my backpack the last time I saw him. He's looking at me as intensely as I assume I'm looking at him. I don't have the presence of mind to feel afraid or self-conscious (the drugs' doing, I realize later), but I do have the strange desire to touch the face in front of me.

Blinking slowly, I reach my hand across the pillow that's been supporting my chest and inch my hand toward his face. His smile falters a bit when he sees my hand moving in his direction, and glances at it often while it makes slow progress toward him, but he doesnt pull away, so I continue inching closer.

I give him a tired (and very drugged) close-lipped smile, which he returns in full-force, and suddenly my palm is resting on his cheek. My hand looks tiny and pale on his large green face, but his skin is softer than what I'd imagined. Not quite as soft as mine, but closer than what I had thought it was going to be.

His smile changes from an 'over-eager-and-up-to-something' grin, to something softer.

He keeps eye contact while leaning into my touch slightly, as if craving the physical contact. We sit like this for a moment, just observing each other while my thumb moves slowly up and down his cheek, getting accustomed to the feel of it.

My strength starts to wane causing my hand to shake. He feels this, and reaches up to cover his hand with mine, slowly lowering it back down onto the pillow in front of me, but then doesn't take his hand away.

I smile faintly again, comforted by the touch. It's as if I had an older brother or a close friend holding my hand in my time of need. I think he senses this, because he gives my hand a little squeeze.

I swallow as a question finally forms in my head. "...t's your name?" I ask, my tongue feeling sluggish and full of cotton.

He blinks at me, then smiles even wider, "I'm Mikey," he says, "the full names' Michelangelo, but my bros call me 'Mikey' for short. You can too if you'd like," he asks, and this time there's a hint of shyness included, as if nervous of my response.

"Mikey..." I mumble, the drugs making themselves known again and trying to drag me under. I take a deep breath and force my eyes to stay open, "is a wonderful name." I finish.

He beams at me again, but before we can continue with wherever this conversation was about to go, more green bodies slide into my peripheral. Someone says something to Mikey in that other language, who looks up obviously disappointed, but tenses to stand. He gives me one last smile (I swear that smile could rival the NYC skyline), pats my hand again, then turns out of my field of vision. He's replaced with the one in Glasses, and I can sense Blue-eyes watching from close-by.

"Anna, right?" Glasses asks me. I nod slowly when the question registers. His eyes are darting from my face to his devices strapped to his arms, but it's not in a nervous way. It reminds me more of a doctor checking his patients' chart.

He gives me a small closed-lip smile, as if he's not used to giving them, but the gesture is sincere.

"I know you might have a lot of questions, but first let's check and make sure everything's looking good, alright?" he asks as he slowly reaches for the hand that had been covered by his brother moments before.

Again, I nod- then watch as he takes my hand and flips it over, cradling it and pressing two of his large fingers into the flesh below my wrist.

I clear my throat and try to swallow again, without much success at relief, and ask the same as I did with Mikey- I can't just keep calling them by the names I made up for them, it feels to impersonal after everything that they've done for me.

"What's your name?" I ask quietly, my eyes now watching his.

He almost gives a little 'jolt', as if unused to people asking him questions, or having to come out of his own mind (I can tell even in my drug-induced state that his mind was constantly spinning). He glances at me, then clears his own throat and looks determinedly down at my wrist again.

"I'm Donnie," he says to my hand.

I grin a little wider at that, "Short for…" I prod.

He looks up at me this time, and I challenge him with the raise of one eyebrow and a smile- daring him to look away or not answer me.

His eyes flash over my face as he releases my arm slowly, placing it back on the pillow as he registers the mild challenge. He in turn graces me with his own close-lipped smile while holding my gaze. "Donatello," he says.

His answer makes me smile enough to reveal some teeth, and he blinks- almost in shock- from it. He quickly re-focuses his attention to the do-hickies attached to his arms, and I take a moment to blink several times while taking some deep breaths through my nose. I hate that it's so hard for me to stay awake right now, and I make a mental note that '_I hate anestesia_' and to try to stay as far away from it as I can in the future.

I notice at that moment how unusually hot I feel. I glance down past my shoulder and see a few blankets stacked on top of me. I go to use my freed hand to take them off- I'm really starting to sweat now- but a new hand stops me. I let out a breathy 'hey!' in protest, and follow the arm up until I reach the familiar face of Blue-Eyes. He's standing by my hip, on the right of Donatello, his hand a band of iron preventing me from my goal.

His face portrays no emotion, but I know that those blankets won't budge unless he says so. Before I can voice my complaint, he takes a step forward and places a glass of water in front of my face. My eyes fixate on this, and for a moment I forget how hot the blankets are making me. It has a bendy straw so that I don't have to sit up to drink it- which makes me forever grateful, I don't think I could sit up at the moment even if I had wanted to.

My hand reaches for the glass, but his doesn't move, so I just lay mine atop his as I suck down the much-needed water.

Once all the water is gone I relax back into my pillow. I look up at Blue and give him a smile as well. "Thank you," I say. It almost comes out as a whisper, but I know he hears it.

He bows his head a little, then turns to leave. It's at this point that the heat becomes almost overwhelming, and before my brain fully registers what I'm doing, my arm has shot out again and is clumsily trying to remove the blankets that suffocate me with their heat.

Now it's Donnie who reaches out to try and stop me, but he pauses as something beeps on one of his gadgets. I hear him let out a faint curse a moment later, then he's helping me remove the blankets. I almost sigh in relief before I hear Donnie shouting back at Blue.

"Leo!" He shouts. I'm going to call it safe to assume he means 'Blue'. A moment later, Leo's by Donnie's side.

"She's got an infection and is developing a fever. There's a tray full of syringes on top of my desk, bring it," He says, but Leo has already disappeared.

"What's all the ruckus?" I hear Mikey's voice coming from a corner of the large room, slowly getting louder as he gets closer.

"Mikey, go start filling the tub- cold water only!- and then ask Master Splinter for one of his herbal mixes that would help with infection and fever." He says, glancing at someone behind me as he successfully wrestles the blankets off of my now-shivering body. As soon as the air hits my skin, I regret my decision of taking off the blankets. The sweat that had started to develop from the heat is now a conduit that's helping freeze the air that touches my skin.

I whimper and try to reach for the blankets bunched up on the floor, but Donnie holds my shoulder down preventing me from moving.

My legs curl up and my body starts to shake in a feeble attempt to keep myself warm, even though the back of my mind is reminding me that _I do_ need to cool down to fight this fever. I know this-I'm going to school to be a doctor for crying out loud-, but my brain dismisses the thought, only able to focus on the discomfort.

I force my eyes to stay open throughout all this, so I see the moment that Leo is back and holding a tray. Donnie turns from me to pick up one of the syringes, then returns to crouching in front of me.

"Try and hold still Anna," he says around the needle cap between his teeth.

I take deep breaths through my nose and out my mouth, trying to control the shivering. It seems to help some, and I'm so focused on my breathing that I hardly feel the pinch of the needle in my arm. Once all the liquid is injected and the needle is removed, Donnie is back to giving instructions.

"We're going to have to get her into the tub to help her body cool down. Luckily, April brought more than one set of clothes." He says this almost sarcastically, "We need to remove her bandages though, and replace it with a water-tight one," He adds, a bit of nervousness in his tone.

"I'll do it!" Shouts the voice of Mikey from a different corner of the room. I see Leo give him a sharp look, which brings silence from Mikey's end of the room, and then Leo's bending over and tugging up my shirt once again. He only tugs up as high as my bandages go, and then swift hands are undoing the tight strands around my midsection. He's done in a matter of moments, the whole time never taking his eyes off his task, and never touching my skin unless it's clearly unavoidable. With the wad of fabric in his hand, he steps back and leaves my line of vision to make room for Donnie. He approaches quietly, kneeling down to get a better angle to the newly stitched puncture wound. I watch through half-closed eyes as he carefully covers the area with a different square bandage, pressing firmly over every side, and then applies some sort of tape as well.

Once he's satisfied with his handiwork he gives it a little nod of satisfaction, then stands. He re-adjusts my shirt so that it's covering me, and then his arms are sliding under my knees and shoulders. He lifts me almost effortlessly, and I automatically curl into the warmth of his chest...well, shell.

I can now see what clothes I'm in- they are not mine, but are definitely female. It looks like a plain blue shirt and some grey cotton shorts, and right now they are doing almost nothing to keep the chill at bay.

I continue to shiver violently, my hands against my chest and my nose pressed into Donnie's shell, eyes shut tight as I feel a strong sense of vertigo that I'm afraid will turn into nausea if I keep them open. My side gives a painful 'twinge' at the sudden pressure and movement, but there's nothing I can do about it.

I hear the sounds of water and bodies shifting, and for a moment I have flashbacks of some all-too recent memories. They fade though as I hear the familiar voices of Mikey and Leo in the background, and the chill of the air brings me back to the present.

Still shivering uncontrollably, I force my eyes open to look at my new surroundings when I feel the shift in atmosphere and temperature.

It's darker in this room, which I find oddly comforting. There's a slight echo added to the voices that are conversing lowly around us, and I realise that we are in the bathroom. It's more like a guys locker room then any bathroom I'm used to, but it looks and smells clean, and that's all that I can ask for.

There are large shower stalls lining one wall of the spacious room, with shelves of towels and large brushes on the other. On the far side, taking up most of the wall, is what looks like a massive jacuzzi, except that it's made of concrete and sits about four feet high and is probably six or seven feet long. A large spigot juts out of the wall above the monstrosity, gushing water into the tub. I shiver a little harder just at the thought of how cold that water must be.

Donnie quickly approaches the mostly-filled tub, and gently lowers me over the edge. I can't help it- as soon as I touch the water, I let out an involuntary cry of shock and pain. The water feels like thousands of white-hot knives shooting through me at once, forcing my joints to lock and my breath to come in short gasps, the water almost choking me as some fills my open mouth.

The way Donnie drops me into the tub, I think he expected me to just lay on my back in the water until it was time for me to get out. My instincts-on the other hand- do not cooperate, and took matters into their own hands.

I instinctively try to righten myself to a standing position, but the shivering, recent near-death experience, and tendrils of anesthesia still in my system made my sense of balance laughable. I immediately fall over, taking a surprised gasp when the bandage gives a hard tug at my side, almost stretching my stitches to the point of agony.

Gasping for air while falling over into freezing water is not something I recommend. My head completely submerges, but just as quickly, I'm pulled out again by a strong hand on my upper arm.

I cough and sputter, trying to get rid of the water in my lungs, then blink my eyes until they are clear enough to see the one holding me up. I'm not surprised when I realise it's Leo.

His eyes scan my face, an almost apprehensive expression on his. I continue to bob slightly in the frigid water, my teeth chattering together and my fingers stiff. Leo seems to make up his mind about something after a moment of watching me, and slowly drags me over to the edge of the tub. He guides the arm he's been holding over the lip of the concrete, my head coming to rest on my arm. After making sure I'm secure enough in this position, he releases my arm and steps to the side.

I'm hoping against hope that he's just gone to get a towel and is going to help me out of this torture machine, but he only shifts enough to one side so that he has room to throw his massive leg over and into the tub. Before I can fully register his actions, his other leg is also in the tub, and then he's lowering himself down into the water next to me.

I'm still shaking violently, and my energy has been sufficiently tapped, even after the mini-adrenaline rush I just got from my near-drowning, so I only have the energy and presence of mind to raise one eyebrow in surprise.

He sits himself so that his back is against the far corner of the tub, his legs out in front of him and almost touching the other far side of the tub. Once he's settled, Leo's eyes come up to meet mine. He holds them for a moment, gauging my reaction to this strange turn of events, and then he lifts his hand up out of the water, beckoning me to him.

My eyes shift from his hand and his gaze, understanding slowly dawning. I take a moment to make my decision, but soon my blue-tinged and shaking fingers are reaching for his large green ones. He makes up the difference of the space between us to grasp my hand in his, pulling me from the edge of the tub and into his chest.

I float facing him, and at first I'm confused at how this is going to help anyone, but then I feel his hands gently settle on the middle of my back, helping me to stay securely anchored rather than bobbing all over the place, then pulls me close until my forehead is resting on the shell covering his chest. I bring my arms into my sides and place my hands on the shell in front of me, trying to find whatever little heat I can, then feeling the massively toned muscles of Leo's legs come up on either side of me. Basically, I won't be moving- accidental or not- any time soon.

This is the most intimate embrace I've ever been in, and I'd bet this is Leo's too. If I was in a more normal state of mind, I would probably be as red as a tomato and laughing hysterically at the embarrassing situation, but all I can manage to feel is gratitude at not having to suffer the cold and misery alone. Leo hasn't moved (doesn't feel like he's _breathing_ either) since adjusting our positions, but the cold doesn't even seem to bother him! '_Lucky turtle_,' my mind grumbles.

My shaking has not subsided, but I allow myself to relax into the embrace and focus on trying to even out my breathing.

I notice movement out of the corner of my eye, and tilt my head to the side enough to see Mikey leaning against a shower stall door, a smug grin directed at Leo decorating his face.

He notices that I'm watching him, and fumbles to shove something metallic into a pouch connected to his belt. I'm not able to catch what the device is, and the curiosity is gone before I can really start to wonder what it could have been. He takes a step closer, and his smile dims the longer he looks at me. Annoyance rises at the look, '_I don't want to wallow in everyone's concern'_, I realize. I clear my throat and call out to him.

Mikey takes another step closer at my call, eyeridge raised and eyes full of concern, his smile all but gone now.

I take in a deep breath, "...I think I have the right...to hear your guys' story," I manage, forcing my lips up into a small smirk.

Mikey's smile returns in full force. I feel Leo shift- but he doesn't utter a word in protest, so Mikey begins the long and complicated story of how the individuals around me ended up as they were.

I see Donnie sitting in a chair in my peripheral, sometimes sitting forward and injecting facts into the animated story Mikey is weaving about evil corporations, mad scientists, and robot samurai, but mostly stays quiet, absorbed in the projections that emerge from his gadgets. My attention never wavers, even when I feel the distant calls of sleep tugging at the edges of my mind, I shove the feelings away as best I can and return my attention to the incredible story-like events. If I wasn't currently snuggled up against one of said 'mutant turtles', I would have written Mikey's tale as one from the mind of an incredibly hyper 8-year-old, but since that's not the case I'm inclined to believe every detail.

Splinter comes into the bathroom during the epic re-telling of a battle with a crazy man named 'Shredder', pausing for a moment to observe the scene before him, his eyes resting on Leo and I for a moment longer than the others. He steps forward though without comment, and hands me a small thermostat full of warm liquid. Tearing my gaze away from Mikey, who hasn't stopped talking- even with the new addition to the room-, I reach up a shaking hand to clutch the offered beverage. I'm able to bring it to my lips without dropping the cup, and vaguely wonder at the flavor of tea as I take a sip. It's not unpleasant, but it does leave a strange aftertaste. It warms me though, so I look back up at 'Master Splinter' (Mikey left out no details about who their father was) and give him the best smile I can muster.

"Thank you," I whisper, and slightly bow my head in a gesture that- I hope- conveys my respect and gratitude.

He bows slightly to me as well, and though almost no emotion shows on his face, I have a strange feeling that Splinter approved. Of what- I'm not exactly sure, but I was glad to have it.

Sooner than expected, the drink is gone and the story is over. Donnie comes over as soon as Mikey finishes, taking the empty thermos from my limp hand and trading it for a thermometer.

"Sorry Anna," he says, "we're going to have to check your temperature often to see how the fever is progressing," he informs me while reaching across the tub to place the device in my ear.

My shivering had mostly subsided since being placed in the tub, but I give an involuntary twitch as the cool metal makes contact with my inner ear, and for a brief moment I feel Leo's arms tighten in response. The flex is so light I can almost believe I imagined it, but I catch a look from Donnie as he looks at Leo, whose head towers above mine. I can't decipher it, but I think Donnie noticed the movement as well.

Before I can overthink the subtle differences in body language and 'turtle-eye-conversations', the thermometer 'beep's, breaking my train of thought.

Donnie checks the reading and 'humm's in response. "Your temperature is coming down nicely," he says, his lips forming a small satisfied grin, "Another hour in the tub, and I can almost positively say your fever will be gone!" he adds while cleaning the thermometer and placing it in a box on the floor by his vacated chair.

I groan in disappointment and lightly bang my forehead against Leo's shell, ignoring my slightly still-chattering teeth and immobile fingers. I hear an almost inaudible release of breath that sounds remarkably close to a chuckle from above me, but I don't have the energy to look and see if I really did make Leo laugh. Instead, I focus my eyes on the whirling texture of shell in front of me. I force my pointer finger to move, and lightly trace the designs, my eyes following the movements.

Time seems to move at a snail's pace now that I don't have Mikey's energetic voice to keep me entertained. I feel my eyes drifting shut, and this time I have no reason to stop them. I know Leo won't let me drown, and I have time to kill.

I shift a bit to get into a slightly more comfortable position, and soon my cheek is back to resting against Leo's shell, my hands pressed tightly between my chest and his. Allowing my eyes to drift closed, I see both Mikey and Donnie make their way out the bathroom door (and I could have sworn that I saw a flash of red too) but I'm too far gone to care that now it's just me and Leo, holding eachother in a bathtub, _alone_.

'_Hopefully, this won't be the last time we have some alone time_,' I find myself thinking drowsily. And then, everything fades into a gentle 'humm' in the background of my mind.


	4. Meeting the Gang

It's been too long. School and crazy have been taking over my life, but with Corona, it's given me a moment to get back into writing. I honestly dont have most of this story's details down, so if yall have suggestions, let them be known.

Sorry for slipping from past and present tense. It drives me nuts that I do it, but just know it's not intentional!

Show the love in the comments.

I'm awoken from my daze by the sloshing of water and shifting appendages.

I jerk out of my semi-unconsciousness with little grace and a good dose of embarrassment.

My situation would have been comical if it was happening to anyone else (and if I was still under the intoxicating influence of drugs) but even though I still feel some of the effects from the anesthesia, I'm more coherent than since before I started running from my attackers.

My bed (i.e. Leo), freezes when I jerk awake.

"Sorry," he mumbles quietly, tilting his head down slightly to meet my eyes, "...your fever's broken, we can get out now." he says, breaking eye contact.

I feel his hands slide off of my back and his legs (those MASSIVE LEGS!) slide up my sides as he moves into a crouch, and suddenly I'm blushing so much I wouldn't be surprised if Donnie thought my fever had come back.

Luckily, Donnie is across the room and busy with some of his body tech, so he doesn't not notice my horrifyingly obvious blush, and Leo doesn't seem to notice. That, or he's too polite to say anything.

I clear my throat and try to avoid eye contact with my ex-bodypillow as he quickly shifts us both up and out of the tub, all while barely causing a ripple in the water.

He pauses with me in his arms once we are out, seemingly debating with himself as we both drip a fairly decent amount of water onto the concrete floor. He quickly makes up his mind though, and slowly lowers my feet to the ground, one arm still curled around my shoulders as I steady myself. When I regain my footing, that arm disappears too.

I blink and shake my head at the disorienting feeling of loss once the heavy weight of his arm is gone. I had felt warm and safe for the first time since this whole ordeal began, and without even realising it, had quickly grown accustomed to his solid presence.  
'_Knock it off,_' I think to myself, '_he's just being kind. You have more important things to worry about right now...like calling your roommates to tell them you're alive!'_ I realise with a 'jolt'.

Ignoring the cold and the uncomfortable feeling of my wet clothes dripping water into every crack and crevice of my body, I cross my arms over my chest to try and keep some heat (and let's be honest, the cold water did nothing to help me feel comfortable in my now-clingy outfit with a room full of males), and take some shaky steps over to where Donnie is standing, still engrossed in his do-hickies to notice my approach.

"Donnie," I say, my voice sounding a little panicked, even to my own ears.

He jumps at his name and turns to look at me, his eyes comically wide behind his broken glasses.

"Yes?" he asks, sounding surprised at being addressed.

"My phone," I ask desperately, "do you have it?" I ask.

Caution, and what sadly looks like _suspicion_, immediately enters his eyes.

"...yes," he replies, "...why?" he asks like he already fears the answer.

"What time is it?" I ask, looking pointlessly around for a clock of some kind and surprising him with my question.

His eyes briefly unfocus as he looks slightly up and past me, then refocus on mine.

"3:17 am," He says with a question in his voice.

I let out a quiet "shit" under my breath, then ask again for my phone.

"Please Donnie," I say, "I know what it sounds like, but I promise I'm not going to call the police on you guys or anything. I don't ever get home later than, like, ten because I'm a loser that likes to go to bed early, and my roommates know this and I usually check in with at least one of them before going to bed, and I just know they're going to be losing their minds because I haven't called, and then _they _will call the police and that might lead to you guys, or that security video will show me running from those men, and my parent's will get a call from the police in the middle of the night and -" My panicked rambling is cut off when I feel a light touch on my shoulder.

I jump a little and bring my eyes back up to the large turtle in front of me.

As soon as we make eye contact his fingers are gone from my shoulder, his expression full of mixed emotions that I can barely read. After a moment though, his lips quirk up into the ghost of a smile.

"I sent them a text message from your phone before your fever hit," he says, "... I told them that you had a family emergency and that you would call them in a few days," he says, sounding proud of his problem solving skills. "...They've been very supportive and say they will be taking notes in class for you," he adds with a little smirk.

I'm speechless for a moment as the new information processes. I'm impressed by the 'family crisis' excuse, leaving room for future questions without having to reveal too much. Smart.

My eyebrow raises as I realise a few critical things all at once.

"My phone is locked, how did you get in? How did you even know who to text? What about the security box I activated? The police will find out it was me eventually, how am I supposed to explain _that_ to my roommates, my parents, and the police?" I don't mean to fire the questions at him, but they come flooding out of me the moment I start to fully realise just how deep I am into this.

Donnie surprises me though when his smirk grows even more confident.

"Please," he says, almost teasingly, his demeanor relaxing slightly and shifting into one of cautious pride, "A cell phone is child's play. And if I can break into Stockman security in under an hour, I can just as easily break into the police database and edit that security footage. It's true, the police did arrive, and there is an investigation being conducted, but it's hard to know who the victim is when you can't see her face. But don't worry, there was a very good shot of the Foot following you into the alley. Your identity and whereabouts are safe...for now," he says.

"And," he adds with the ghost of a laugh, "it would be hard to miss a group message called '_my chicas in apartment 203B_',"

Both of my eyebrows raise at this and I can feel a small smile forming.

"You're pretty smart, aren't you?" I say, my lips turning into a full-on grin as Donnie blinks, then starts sputtering, trying to deny his intelligence, all of his previous confidence disappearing in a moment of adorable self-consciousness.

"He's a genius," Leo says, coming around from somewhere behind me to stand next to his brother, "... and most of the time we forget to acknowledge it." he says with a tiny smile and a light shoulder bump to said brother.

Donnie stops sputtering to take in the complement, and by the way he seems to swell a little with pride, I don't think he gets many of them.

A second later, another figure walks into the room.

"DAAAM Anna Banana," Mikey says, loud enough for his voice to bounce off the bathroom walls, "I, personally, am diggin the look. I think you should think about keeping it long-term, nothing screams 'HOT' like soaked pajamas and messed-up hair," he says with a wink and his ever present, up-to-no-good grin.

I feel the blush spread unattractively up my chest until it reaches my cheeks, my eyes automatically shift to the floor to avoid the turtle's gazes as I shift my feet, repositioning my arms to hold myself a little tighter.

"Mikey!" Donnie shouts, sounding scandalized. Meanwhile, I see Leo shift his legs to face his brother as I hear a solid '_smack', _followed by an 'ooow' from Mikey.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry!" Mikey pleads in surrender, "I was only joking….kinda." and I can hear the smirk in his voice.

I can't be mad at him. Not really. Not after everything these brothers have done for me with nothing in return, but it wasn't common for me to get compliments on my physical appearance, and here I was, standing in almost nothing, the dampness of my clothes leaving little to the imagination, and surrounded by three young men.

Granted, they were huge humanoid-turtle men who seemed to wear almost nothing themselves, but still, I felt very exposed in the dim light of the boys bathroom.

However, before I could get a word in for Mikey's defence, a wad of clothes and a large towel are shoved under my nose and bringing my eyes back up to Mikey's, trying to ignore his shit-eating grin.

"I thought you might not dig the new vibe, so I brought you some clothes." He tells me, his smile still huge, but the teasing leaving his voice. Mostly.

Mikey and I had shared a moment back when I was barely conscious on the couch, so I knew in my heart that his words weren't meant to be harmful. So instead of feeling belittled and sexualized like I normally would have if anyone else had spoken the same way to me, I slowly unravel my arms from around my chest, and take the offered clothing.

Then, feeling bold and trying to get past my embarrassment with humor, I stick my tongue out at him while giving him a little shove.

Mikey seems delighted that I'm not holding any hard feelings, and acts as if my shove actually does some damage by 'stumbling' a step backward and pretending to wince in pain.

"Ouch baby girl, I think that's gonna leave a mark!" He says with a wide smile.

I roll my eyes, fighting my own smile. "Get someone to kiss it better," I say as I walk towards the shower stalls.

"Are you volunteering?!" he says. The slam of my stall door is the only answer he gets.

I hear Donnie and Leo berate Mikey as they drag him away from the bathroom to give me some privacy, which I'm extremely grateful for. The last few hours have been a whirlwind, and I haven't had any time to process a single moment of it.

As the sounds of the brothers fade down the hall, I take a moment to breathe. I place the clothes and towel on a stool set conveniently in the stall, then lean against the concrete wall, trying to process my emotions.

Lingering fear is one of the first that registers. '_The last time I was leaning against a wall like this,_' I think to myself, '_a man had been enjoying my terror_.'

For a moment, I'm back in the alleyway. The smell of rain mixed with garbage and something musky fills my nose, the sound of silent feet and water rushing in my ears, and the overpowering presence of Creeper standing just inches away presses down on my chest.

The flashback lasts for only a few seconds, but it's enough for my heart to start racing and my hands to tremble.

I physically shake my head, hoping it will rid me of the feeling of being cornered. When that doesn't work, I force myself to remember what happened next.

'They _came,'_ I remind myself. '_You're fine because they came, and now you're alive and_ safe.'

I repeat this line in my head for a few moments, breathing deeply to try to quell the tendrils of fear and anxiety that still linger in the recesses of my mind. I feel a tear slip out from under my eyelid, and I bury my head in my hands as I take in a few shuddering breaths.

In the darkness behind my hands, blue eyes appear. They hold little emotion. Some mild concern, and maybe a bit of apprehension, but they are calm and solid and unwavering, and at the sight of them, my heart rate starts to slow.

I take another few moments to remember how it felt to be carried by him. The relief I felt when he listened to my diagnosis when I was bleeding on the table. When he put himself in an uncomfortable situation to make sure _I _was comfortable.

Soon, the tremors and anxiety are nearly non-existent. My fear isn't completely gone - I think that would be something that I would have to work on for a while before it ever truly disappeared - but the reminder that there were others willing to help a total stranger gave me the strength to lift my head again.

I feel a shiver run through me, bringing me back to my current situation.

Deciding that I wanted to feel my fingers again, I turn on the faucet to start the shower, and start to strip. The warm water is almost painful at first, but soon I can feel my muscles starting to relax and my blood reaching all my extremities.

I was content and relaxed enough to quietly hum a song. I usually sang in the shower (sometimes to the annoyance of my roommates), but I didn't feel like belting Adele at the moment.

Humming the lines of a very overly-played pop song, I started to think about the turtles themselves.

Honestly, I was a little surprised at myself at how un-affected I was at the sight of them. Granted, I had been in shock from the attack and getting stabbed, but still, I was pretty proud that my first instinct hadn't been to scream in their faces and then to start sprinting towards a police station.

Obviously, there were the physical differences between them and most of humanity, but for some odd reason, I couldn't seem to linger on those differences for too long. After hearing the whole story from Mikey, it was easy to sympathise with all of them. They didn't ask to be transformed, but they came out on top - a single father (who had been a _rat _for pete's sake) raising four humanoid turtle babies in the sewer, learning and teaching ninja skills to them so they could protect themselves, and now they guarded the city from a clan of ninjas (why the name 'Foot'? Literally the worst name _ever_), unseen and unappreciated by the oblivious victims of New York City. It was so insane, yet so admirable, that - for me at least - it was hard to focus on just the physical traits alone.

Rubbing the water out of my face, I decided that this wasn't a train of thought I should be pursuing at 3 am while in the shower of said turtles.

Spotting a bottle of scented bodywash, I decide to reimburse the guys later and give my bruised body a thorough scrubbing, avoiding the water-proof bandage that still clings to my side.

Rinsing, I shut off the warm water and snagg the towel I had left on the stool. Drying quickly, I wrap my hair in the towel and dress.

The clothes this time were a bit more modest, which I was grateful for.

I wasn't entirely a prude. I had my moments where I 'dressed to impress', but I valued comfort over style, and I usually felt the most comfortable when all the important bits were thoroughly covered.

This time, black leggings that are too long for my short legs and a slightly too-tight long sleeved grey shirt was my chosen outfit. Luckily, I still have my damp sports bra and underwear, which I towel-dry as best I can before slipping them on.

'_It's better than commando_,' I think to myself as I try to ignore the unpleasant feeling of dampness against my skin.

Feeling warm and refreshed, I step out of the stall and take a moment to assess myself in the small mirror that hangs above a sink below the shelves holding towels.

Barring a few scrapes and the blossoming bruise on my left cheek from the backhand I received from Creeper in the alley, I looked pretty much the same.

Same brown hair and pale skin. Same freckles and small nose. My eyes were still green, and my lips were still on the thinner side. I was still short, with slight curves that were easy to miss under scrubs and comfortable clothing.

I adjust the shirt as best as I can, still feeling slightly exposed even with the full coverage, the cut of it showing off my waist in a way that looked flattering, but clung in a way that didn't warrant much room for...anything really.

With a sigh, I shrug and make my way out of the bathroom.

Untwisting my hair from the towel, I hang it on a stall door, combing my fingers through the damp pieces of my hair to try and restore some order to my rats nest of a head.

I follow the sounds of voices and banging until I reach the edge of the main room where I stop in awe.

I didn't have the spatial awareness before to really look at my surroundings, but now I didn't suffer the same problem.

There was so much to take in all at once. The couch made of pizza boxes, the waterslide leading into the center of the living room, the wall of computer monitors and TV screens, the racks of weapons hanging off the walls, it was all at once mind-boggling and endearing. Every inch of the walls were covered in memorabilia - from skateboards and graffiti marks to police barricades and street signs, everything seemed to hold a story.

Movement in my peripheral caught my attention, drawing my gaze to the raised platform where the kitchen was centered. Mikey danced about, moving pots and pans while stirring something in each of them with the large wooden spoon he held in his hand. He was happily talking to the dower looking brother in red leaning against a support beam at the edge of the kitchen, eyes glaring at the floor.

Donnie sat in a hanging chair a little ways away from the kitchen, but still within earshot of his brothers. Though listening to the conversation seemed to be the farthest thing from his mind. He was tinkering with something in his hands while balancing a very _modified_-looking laptop on his knees. He pressed a key every few seconds before returning to the device in his hands.

Leo was sitting at the kitchen table, a sword in his lap as he methodically passed over the blade with a whetstone, looking pensive and lost in thought.

I smile slightly at the sight of the brothers. Not having any siblings myself, I didn't get to experience the benefits of a large family gathering before college, and while my roommates and friends were great substitutes, it didn't look like it matched to the deeper bond shared by a family unit.

I push my thoughts away from my family, not wanting to think about my parents now. The slight smile lingered though, and I took the opportunity to observe the family for an undisturbed moment.

The peace lasted all of 4 seconds, because a moment later, Mikey twirled around and caught my eye, almost like he knew I had been standing here the whole time.

He raised an eyeridge before smirking and letting out a cat-call whistle.

"Dang Anna Banana, you clean up nice!" he shouts across the room, gaining everyone's attention.

I can feel the blush forming but shove it down as hard as I can. I shoot Mikey a glare as I sense everyone's eyes turning to me.

"Shut up, Mikey," I shoot back, walking farther into the room with a confidence I don't entirely feel. This earns a snort from Donnie who quickly goes back to his tinkering, and a slight smirk from Leo. I try to ignore them as I make my way up the platform to the last turtle in the room, ducking under Mikey as he tries to grab me in a hug, who pouts at my escape.

The one in red has made it clear that he wasn't going to go out of his way to talk to me, so I decide it's my job to introduce myself to him.

I have a feeling this guy prefers the head-on approach.

He'd looked up when Mikey had made my presence known, and his striking green eyes watch me now as I make the trek over to him.

He doesn't retreat, but he's not exactly exuding a 'please, let's have a chat' vibe either. This is his home, and I'm the unwanted guest in his eyes. I know I have to tread carefully, but I also want to show that I won't be cowed by his steely gaze and slightly hostile demeanor.

Before making it all the way over to him (the place was deceptively huge), I notice one of those strange looking knives sticking out of the belt he had tied around his waist.

The same weird looking knife that stuck Creeper's hand to the wall before he could touch me.

Making the connection, I smile and bring my eyes up from the deadly weapon. I see a flash of surprise shoot through him at the smile, but it's quickly hidden by suspicion. I don't let it deter me.

I stop a few steps away, respecting his personal space. He eyes me, waiting.

"...I wanted to say thank you," I start, hoping that gratitude will make him a little less weary, "You were the one who stopped the man in the alleyway from… hurting me… I can't tell you how grateful I am for that." I say, sincerely.

His only reply is to blink at me, but I feel a shift in his attitude. He's still an immovable mountain of muscle and simmering emotions, but something in his gaze has relaxed, and I don't feel like I'm in danger of setting off a bomb with the wrong word.

My smile widens a bit, and I take the chance to stick out my hand.

"I'm Anna," I say, leaving my hand to dangle in 'no-man's land', hoping he'll take it, even when I know that he could crush it with ease if he wanted to, "I didn't catch your name earlier."

His arms are crossed over his chest, and for a horribly long moment his eyes flick back and forth between my outstretched hand and my face.

Finally, just when my smile starts to fade and I'm about to drop my hand to my side, he lets out a sigh and shifts enough to unravel one of his insanely muscled arms. His three fingered hand grasps my much smaller one firmly (though a lot gentler than I'm sure he was capable of) before pumping our joined hands once and then letting my hand go.

"Raph," he grumbles, shifting to cross his arms again while looking over my head, trying to dismiss me.

My smile returns full force, '_You won't get rid of me that easy_' I think.

"Short for..." I press.

His eyes shoot back to meet mine. He's silent again for a moment, and then a tiny smirk breaches his 'unaffected' facade.

"...Raphael." He says with less of a grumble.

I nod once, trying to supress my smile. It feels like I have just won a huge victory, and I'm not 100% sure why. Either way, I am determined not to look a gift horse in the mouth. I shoot one last smile at Raph, before turning to head for the kitchen table. The room behind me is silent, and I notice for the first time that the other three turtles have been watching the encounter with differing reactions.

Donnie seems weary, like he's waiting for the other shoe to still drop. His eyes dart back and forth between me and Raph, who still stands behind me. Mikey is in awed shock, his mouth hanging open while his food lays forgotten, something smoking on the stovetop because of it.

I quirk an eyebrow at him, which seems to jolt him out of his state of shock, an amused laugh escaping him as he turns to stir whatever it is that's burning.

I catch sight of Leo, his face almost unreadable. To the unknowing, it would look like my exchange with Raph had left him unaffected, but I could sense that this wasn't the case. His whetstone was held loosely in one hand, his eyes staring at me yet slightly unfocused. He blinks twice before shifting his gaze to the huge turtle behind me, then back to the sword laying in his lap. He seems thoughtful, distracted by something I could only hope to understand.

I mentally shrug at their behavior, and make my way over to Mikey. He grins at my approach and reaches around my shoulders to draw me to his side. I roll my eyes at his antics, but I can't help the little grin that's fighting to be released.

Mikey takes this as encouragement and proceeds to tell me about all the ingredients he's using to make the most 'spectacularly awesome dinner you've ever tasted'.

I nod and make appreciative noises, not quite sure yet how to fully take on Mikey or my added dynamic into this household. I still feel slightly out of place, like the 'new girl' who had just been thrown into the middle of an established 'best friends group', but Mikey seemed to like me, and the others (minus Raph from a few hours ago) were being kind and helpful.

Dinner is ready soon after, and everyone quickly assembles to the table.

It's actually two tables pushed together; one small and round, the other long and oval.

There are five mismatched chairs surrounding them, all with some form of writing or drawings on them.

Leo currently sits in a red chair at the far end of the table, and Raph grabs the blue chair with the words "ninja power" written all over it, and plops down at the opposite end. Donnie comes up from where he had been swinging, his computer and gadget left behind but the hologram from his watch illuminating his face as he distractedly makes his way to an open chair in the middle.

Mikey takes hold of my wrist with one hand, the other covered in an oven mitt and holding a huge pot of pasta.

"Here you go Anna Banana," he says, showing me to the middle chair directly across from Donnie and right next to Raph, "you get the 'sexy chair' tonight!" he adds with that shiz-eating-grin taking over his face.

And indeed, the chair was clearly labeled with the words "SEXY" on the back of the chair, and "SIT HERE" on the seat.

With a sigh and an exasperated eye-roll that helps to force my embarrassment away, I sit in the offered seat.

The silence that surrounds us as we wait for Mikey to bring over the rest of the bowels isn't exactly tense, but I could feel the potential for awkward starting to brew.

Thankfully (and surprisingly) Donnie is the one to break the silence.

Opening a pocket from the belt cinched to his waist, he slides my phone across the table over to me.

I'm surprised at this - from his heasantancy earlier, I would have thought I wouldn't see my phone again until I was out of here and headed home. That thought doesn't stop me from grabbing it off the table to check my messages.

Donnie had been telling the truth (not that I'd thought he'd been lying in the first place), my roommates had started to worry when I didn't come home after class, and Donnie had left messages mentioning a family emergency and returning in a few days.

Other than that, there were no new messages. Non from either of my parents, or other friends.

'_And why would they_,' I thought '_it's technically the middle of the night. No one would have known anything had happened_.' I reason. It doesn't stop the illogical shot of pain that 'pings' my heart at the thought that my parents didn't know I had gone through something traumatic and didn't bother to call and check on me.

Pushing the thoughts and feelings away, I look up at Donnie.  
"Thank you," I tell him gratefully.

He smiles then ducks his head, focusing on the plate of pasta in front of him.

"I...modified it," he admits, still talking to his pasta.

My eyebrow raises at this, taking note of the annoyed grumble from Raph and the mild glare from Leo, both directed at Donnie.

He raises his eyes - probably feeling the disapprovement oozing off his brother in blue - and brings his hands up a little in surrender, defending himself with his reasoning.

"I just added safety measures!" he protests, "In case she's ever in trouble again, there's a way we can be contacted and know where she's located." he says, the last bit directed at Leo.

By the looks on their faces, I don't believe that's the _only_ thing Donnie did to my phone, and they don't either. I'm sure he's added a few other things, probably stuff to monitor who I call or message to make sure I keep their secret safe, and I can't really blame him for it.

Not that I would ever tell anyone about the five huge, humanoids living somewhere in the confines of NYC, but they don't really know that. Trust has to be earned, and while I'm starting to trust them (saving my life a few times in just as many hours will earn ya some), I've given them very little reason to trust me.

So I nod, "...makes sense." I say, surprising him. I feel Leo shift his attention to me, a flash of surprise in his eyes, then blank neutrality. Donnie's eyes widen slightly as he looks back at me, probably shocked that I'm not demanding the 'modifications' to be undone. Even Raph sitting beside me stills in surprise.

"What?" I ask, grinning a little at their reactions, "I personally have no desire to ever be alone with a group of Foot ninja ever again… I think it's smart for me to have a way to contact you if I'm in danger." I say. "But you know," I add, my grin turning playful, "you could have just given me your phone numbers instead." I say, feeling bold.

I'm rewarded with a blush and incoherent sentences from Donnie, which causes Ralph to release a low chuckle, relaxing further into his chair. I glance over at Leo, who has put away his sword and is serving himself some food. There's amusement in his eyes, and the smallest of small smiles touching the corner of his mouth, and his gaze flickers up to meet mine for a brief moment.

His reaction is the best out of all of them, but before I can start to feel the pride in myself for my well made comment, another voice bursts into the room, making himself known.

"The day Donnie asks a girl for her number is the day I turn back into a full turtle!" he shouts, bringing over the last few things from the kitchen then taking the last remaining chair directly to my left in a flurry of movement. For a moment, I feel bad for the chair as it tries to hold up the bouncing mountain of energy that is Mikey.

"But don't you worry Anna Banana," he says, his ever present grin growing as he shoots me a dramatic wink, "you've already got my deets in there." he adds while '_wiggling'_ his eyebrow ridges in - what I assume is supposed to be - a "sexy" way.

A laugh escapes me, not at all surprised to know that Mikey somehow found a way into my phone to make sure he had a way to keep in touch. Donnie sputters, starting to spout off questions about when and how he was able to do so, the logistics of how dangerous it could be to give out his number, and on and on.

I smile as the dynamic at the table seems to settle into something familiar and comfortable. I don't feel quite as out of place as before, more of an observer and casual contributor to the family unit, and less like an outsider.

Raph adds his two cents in by easily reaching behind me and smacking Mikey across the back of his head.

'Oooow!' he protests, but Raph is smirking as his attention returns to the food on his plate. I giggle at the exchange, earning a small grin from him as he starts to eat his food.

I shift my focus to trying to find a plate (even though I didn't make it a habit to eat in the middle of the night, the last few hours had really depleted me, and I hadn't eaten anything since breakfast the day before - so I was actually pretty hungry), only to find a steaming plate of pasta sitting before me.

I blink in shock for a second, before looking up at the brothers at the end of the table. Mikey is happily shoveling food into his mouth at a pretty impressive rate, while trying to talk to Donnie at the same time. Donnie is also preoccupied, trying to eat while staring at his watch hologram and responding to Mikeys comments. His fork misses his plate sometimes, and he bites onto nothing but fork.

I grin at his distractedness, and turn my attention to the last turtle at the table. Leo is still serving pasta on a plate, but the plate looks suspiciously different in size and color than the one he had been holding before.

He senses my gaze and brings his eyes up to meet mine.

He's calm and - dare I say it - relaxed. He doesn't seem bashful or embarrassed about being caught serving me pasta, only giving me a small smirk when my eyebrow raises to show I'm impressed.

My heart gives a little 'thump' at his smile, and I quickly focus back on the food in front of me. I try to hide my smile behind mouthfuls of food, enjoying the conversation around me. I'm surprised that the pasta is actually really good, and I compliment Mikey on it.

He beams at me like I'd just given him the key to the city.

"April taught me!" he explains, "Oh, I can't wait for you to meet April! She's the best - she's our _hogosha_, the one who saved us when we were little baby turtles - she loves me most, but don't worry Anna, there's always room for you in my heart! Anyway, she said she would stop visiting if all we had to eat was takeout, so she taught us how to cook! Donnie's terrible and burns everything he touches, and Raph and Leo are decent, but they like to cook boring things like rice, so I cook most of the time. I've been told that a man who cooks is sexy - isn't that right Anna?" He says this all in about a breath, and it's complemented with another eye-ridge wiggle.

I snort and roll my eyes, but decide to humor him, "Very," I say.

He cheers and starts bragging to the rest of the table about his sexy cooking skills, making me laugh and earning exasperated responses from his brothers.

Dinner continues in this style - varying degrees of conversation from each of the brothers (even Raph added a few comments), with lots of teasing and grumbled threats. It was pretty engaging, and was over much too soon.

The pasta gone and the conversations lulling, Leo took the break in noise to take the atmosphere into a 180 spin.

"So, Anna," he says, gaining my attention. His eyes are as piercing as ever, and I almost feel like the last several hours are being put on the backburner. I straighten unconsciously in my seat, preparing myself for the questions I know he's about to ask.

"... why were you alone, in a dark alley, surrounded by Foot ninjas, and close to a Foot stronghold?" He asks, his eyes never weavering from mine.

My eyes narrow slightly at the accusatory inflection in his tone. I was an innocent bystander, but now I was being questioned as if I had something to hide.

I let out a sigh through my nose and release my growing annoyance. After everything they had done for me, they had a right to know.

"... I'm a student at NYU, studying to be an ER trauma surgeon. I'm just a sophomore, but I'm trying to stay on top of things. I was headed to a math dissertation when it started to rain. I thought I heard something moving in the shadows, but couldnt see anything, so I kept walking. After a few minutes it was pouring, and I was debating if I should just head home - and that's when I heard them behind me." I say, gaging the reactions of the turtles surrounding me. Everyone has gone quiet, and the feeling of multiple pairs of eyes on me makes me feel a bit self conscious, but I ignore it and soldier on.

"I didn't even think," I say, my eyes focusing on a spot above Leo's head, "I just spun and ran. I hit one of those emergency boxes, but I knew I needed to keep running. The storm made it difficult to see, so I ended up turning down an alley instead of a side street, where I was cornered." I say, then feel a slight shiver run down my spine as the tendrils of fear start to slowly creep back from the recesses of my mind.

Before they can take hold though, I feel a firm and tender grip on my arm.

I blink out of my memories and focus on Mikey, who's placed his hand above my elbow. He gives me an understanding grin that's bright enough to banish the fear...for now.

I take another deep breath and shoot Leo a self-deprecating smile. "...And that's where you guys came in." I say, my eyes leaving Leo's for a moment to cautiously give Raph a 'bump' from my shoulder to his massive bicep, managing a slight smile when his gaze shoots to meet mine.

"...you've got good aim," I say.

He blinks for a second, then smirks and draws out one of those weird-looking knives.

In a cockey flourish, he spins it so fast in one hand, that I don't even know how it's physically possible that it doesn't drop or take one of his fingers off.

He stops it's spin, then flicks his wrist, sending the knife soaring across the table and to the middle of the spacious living room where a beaten-up target board hangs off a metal support beam. He hits it, not quite dead center, but close enough.

I smile and let out a 'woah' a second before I hear a new voice from the corner of the room.

"Sloppy," Master Splinter says as he shuffles his way towards the kitchen table, his robes dragging behind him.

The others at the table snicker at Raph's 'huff' of annoyance, then burst into full-out laughter when Splinter's tail swings around and 'snaps' at Raph's bicep at his annoyance.

Raph puts his hands up in surrender, then gets out of his chair to go get his knife.

As he passes Splinter, I see the father figure place a hand on the spot he had snapped at. Raph pauses for a moment to acknowledge his father's gesture, then continues on.

Splinter takes the seat Raph had just vacated, shifting his attention to me.

It was a bit unnerving having the full attention of this commanding figure resting solely on me, but I tried to keep his gaze without showing my discomfort.

He assessed me for a moment, the room quiet as he seemed to be passing judgement. I wasn't sure what I was waiting for him to decide, but I hope that whatever he chooses, that it keeps me in his good graces.

"Humm," he utters after a long moment. I grasp my hands together in my lap, trying not to squirm.

"...I sense something about you," he says, curiosity in his tone. I wait for him to continue, almost holding my breath.

He keeps me in suspense for a moment longer before his eyes seem to soften, and his tone turns slightly gentle, "...you are a curious one," he says. He then shocks me further by bringing one of his clawed hands forward to rest on the top of my clenched ones. He pats them lightly, his eyes kind.

He utters his next words very quietly, "...you will be a good addition." he says cryptically.

I think only I could have heard his last comment, it was so low. I blink at him, trying to hide my shock at his words and force back the blush that wants to crawl up my chest. I don't think I'm very successful.

He smiles softly at my reaction. He gives one last 'pat' to my relaxing fingers, then shifts his focus to the food on the table.

A plate had already been made for him, and soon, the atmosphere slides back into 'normal'. The boys are not unaffected by the encounter, all of them shooting me glances, probably trying to decipher their father's behavior, but all of them eventually seem to settle on 'if dad's ok with it, so are we'.

It takes me longer to process the strangely cryptic greeting. His words could be taken to mean a variety of different things, but my mind can't seem to settle on any one possibility.

I'm brought out of my thoughts when Master Splinter speaks again.

"You will start your training in the morning," he says firmly.

Everyone in the room seems to freeze.

"...what?" I ask cautiously.

"I did not stutter," he says, again firmly, but I could have sworn I saw a flash of humor pass through his intense eyes.

Leo interrupts before I can come up with a response.

"Father, is that wise?" he asks, "She's injured and should return to the surface soon -" Splinter cuts him off.

"I have decided. Anna can return to the surface when it is safe and she is healed, and will return often to continue training." he declares with a note of finality, standing from the table as he does so.

I'm partially in shock, - I don't even know what this 'training' means! - and can only sit and stare at the retreating form of Splinter as Mikey lets out a '_whoop' _and tackles me into a hug from behind (which immediately turns gentle when I let out an involuntary 'hiss' as my side twinges in protest of the manhandling) who starts exclaiming that he had 'dibbs' and telling me all the things I had to learn first from him. Then, Donnie adds his voice to the growing chaos by creating a verbal list of things like, 'ways Anna can get hurt' and 'teaching basic ninjutsu to an adult'. Even Raph starts muttering from the middle of the living room about how long it was going to be before they could go out and 'crack some skulls' again.

I try to drown out all the noise, my eyes coming up to meet the ones that seemed to always bring me peace in my recent moments of chaos.

He's watching me steadily, probably trying to gauge my reaction.

I give him a slightly wide-eyed look of terror, and his impassive face morphes into a small smirk. Then, he raises his shoulders slightly in a shrug, his smirk softening into a smile before he shifts his attention away, grabbing his plate and walking around the table to take mine.

I shoot him a smile, then clear my throat and look away as he gives me a subtle nod in return.

I don't know what it is about him, but his small gestures (or large ones - the memories of his arms around me in the tub likes to pop up randomly), are very considerate, and the attention brings a smile to my lips.

'_Who knows_,' I think to myself, '_maybe staying here and training with these guys won't be too terrible…_'


End file.
